


Lucid

by eggjam



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Drabble, Fingerfucking, Hallucinations, M/M, Masturbation, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-30
Updated: 2012-04-30
Packaged: 2017-11-04 14:23:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/394839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggjam/pseuds/eggjam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake can't see the Dirk he wants, the real one, but he sees one in his dreams. Of course, this Dirk is different, evolved. This Dirk keeps him awake at night with dark promises, haunts him until he can't tell what's real and what isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lucid

" _Jake_."

 

He sits bolt upright in his bed, cold and damp with sweat. His hair is sticking to his neck, and his is heart hammering, leaving him nauseated. The darkness in his room presses down on him, and he stares at nothing but empty space with wide eyes, listening. Only the jungle, makes a sound, alive with the dangerous opus of prowling nocturnes. The monsters he can face, and the dark does not scare him, but that voice keeps him terrified and running from sleep until he can't keep his eyes open anymore. With effort because his arms are shaking uncontrollably, he peels the skulltop from his head and drops it. It skitters loudly across the floor. Jake had fallen asleep without noticing, and of course Dirk had been there waiting for him, just at the edge of his subconscious where he's been lingering for days. Reclining like a snake on the bed, all sultriness and infuriating patience, he'd climbed on top of Jake and leered down at him expressionlessly.

The memory is searingly fresh and has him squeezing at the sides of his head to keep the voice out. It's been following him even in his waking hours, and he isn't sure if the refusal to sleep has him hallucinating that it's real or if the desire is so strong that he can't suppress it anymore. He's hard in his pants.

 

" _You'll squeal. Like a pig._ "

 

It's Dirk, but it isn't. Dirk would never solicit him this way. No, this Dirk is his Dream Dirk, the one he invented, which makes it worse, makes his stomach clench and his vision swim because he's doing this to himself. On some level, he wants this, because if he didn't it wouldn't be happening. That voice keeps talking. It's a gruff whisper, a promise, a threat, something looming that's infected his body as well as his mind. Every inch of him burns when he hears it, and when it continues on, when he thinks he really can feel those gloved fingers running up the ridge of his spine again, as they do when he falls asleep, he springs away from the mattress, calling his guns from his sylladex and pressing his back to the wall. Push pins holding his posters in place dig into his back, and he can't stop the shaking, aiming blindly into the emptiness of his room with both pistols. The hair on his arms and neck stands on end, and his sweaty grip falters when he feels a touch to his neck, a nip of teeth, and something malicious snarls on the other side of the wall. He jostles his guns and spins, blasting a bullet that through one of the bright red baubles topping his bedposts.

 

" _You'll moan and you'll scream and you'll beg for me until your voice is wrecked and you cough blood_."

 

Knowing he's imagining it doesn't make it any better, and he drops the pistols to the floor limply, sliding down the wall and pulling his shirt over his head because he's delirious from lack of sleep, boiling in his own skin, and so hard it hurts. He's been fighting tooth and nail to keep it back, but it's been relentless to the point that he's considered telling Dirk about it. Maybe that would stop it, and the idea that it could is almost enough to convince him, but if it didn't work then he'd have to deal with both Dream Dirk's attacks and Real Dirk's awkward confusion, and he doesn't think he could take that, not when he knows now how he feels about the real one.

 

" _Do you get it_?"

 

His fingers are on his belt, and he grits his teeth, fumbling with the buckle until he gives up impatiently and forces his pants down without taking it off. It's tight, and it scrapes his thighs, but once they're off, caught around one booted ankle, he wraps a hand around himself, sighing at the contact, and puts the other in his mouth. Ghost fingers trail up the inside of his thighs, and the goosebumps that follow in their wake are a product of as much fear as they are want. He's losing his mind. He knows it.

 

" _Do you get it yet, Jake?_ "

 

He sucks the long finger in the middle of his hand, wrapping his tongue around it, biting down on the lowest knuckle in desperation while the other hand strokes himself up and down, twisting at the base before sliding back up and circling the head with his thumb. The darkness has eaten the rest of his bedroom, and it's looking for a way to let the monsters in.

 

" _I want you in agony._ "

 

A gust of insistent breath is cool against his hot, wet shaft and leaves him keening, pulling the leg that isn't caught in his pants up toward his chest, and his head falls back against the wall, landing too hard and sending a painful throb from his skull to his shoulders, reminding him how tender he is because he hasn't been sleeping.

 

" _I want you to agonize over how good I make you feel until it buckles your knees, has you clinging to me, begging for me, needing it until everything you are is pleasure and your thighs are dripping, sticky with want._ "

 

He's burning alive. Dirk's voice in his head - not his ears, it's all twisted up inside with his thoughts -, his phantom touches and Jake's own are overwhelming him entirely. His head lolls to the side, and he tries to calm his breathing before he faints.

 

" _First, I'll take you with my mouth_."

 

Groaning, he pulls his finger from his mouth and shifts when he feels lips on his own, warm air and tingles, sense memory. After he momentarily presses his lips back without thinking, he shakes himself out of it and scoots until he's facing the side of his bed. Then he leans forward, resting his forehead against the rumpled folds of the comforter hanging over the side, and reaches back with his spit-slicked finger. Ghosts are coming for him. Phantoms have him at their mercy.

 

" _I'll tear your underwear off with my teeth, and then I'll swallow you whole._ "

 

Two fingers are too much for the moment, but one is enough for what he wants anyway, and when he's pushing back against it, finding something inside him that jellifies the entire lower half of his body when he runs his fingertip over it, has his hips jerking forward and shuddering in eager response. His wrists seem to lose their strength, and the speed of his strokes slows in favor of fingering himself. This is wrong, this is terror, this all the bad things being in his head where he can't get away from them, and it's his friend who's haunting him, whose trust he's abusing by disrespecting his image.

 

" _You'll cry because I tell you to cry. Then, I'll turn you over, spread you open, and fuck you with my tongue until your body collapses, and all you can do is quiver and clutch at the sheets, the wall, the dirt in the pumpkin patch, wherever I say._ "

 

His teeth grind against the comforter. He's gagged himself with a mouthful, trying to quiet his own noises because the creatures outside can hear him. They're circling his bedroom, dragging their claws and rattling against the walls. He's feeling lightheaded and too hot, pumping himself as fast as he can with his lax grip and trembling fingers.

 

" _You'll give yourself to me completely, soon enough, because I want you broken so well on a wrack of desire that you can't even smell the leather of my gloves without reaching to touch yourself._ "

 

With a whimper, he lets the comforter fall from his mouth and feels sweat roll down the ridge of his spine, tickling, and he thinks he can smell that leather.

 

" _When you're wet as I want you, I'll kiss you where it gets you flushed and embarrassed, just so you know you're mine, how futile resisting me is, and start in with my hands._ "

 

"Fuck, Strider, please," he asks, hoping he'll either help or go out and kill whatever night thing is walking with loud, heavy feet across the roof, looking for a way to get inside. Dirk does neither, and there's a loud crash when the beast finds its way to him, stands at his back, and growls in his ear. He snaps his head around to stare at it. 

Only the dark. 

Something else drags its nails over his hot flesh, and there's a hand around the base of his shaft that squeezes so hard it hurts. He yelps, swiveling back around to tell Dirk to stop, but he's not there. He's behind him and shirtless, pressed against Jake's back, dwarfing him because he's inescapable now.

 

" _I'll scrape and scratch and finger. I might caress if I get the urge, but this is going to be rough. You'll hurt because this is a lesson. I'll teach you what you can't live without. You don't know yet, but you will._ "

 

Dirk's hand presses down on his shoulder, forces him down, and there are two fingers inside him now. He moans and tosses his head back to lean against Dirk's chest, but he's moving around in the room again, and Jake can't see him.

 

" _When I've taught you the ABCs, we'll move on to the XYZ of the matter._ "

 

It sounds like the entire island is surrounding his bedroom now, and his head is pounding, pulsing as painfully as the rest of his body. There isn't enough air in the whole world, and he's falling forward against the mattress again. His body heat is reflected back to him, overheating and leaving him drenched and struggling not to let the unbearable, painful crackling lights behind his eyes pull him under before he finishes, before he gets eaten.

 

" _You'll use your own hands to undress me, salivating and pulling out my dick, and I'll let you run your tongue over every bulging vein until you're satisfied because looking at me makes you so eager, so hungry. I won't blame you. I'm pretty famished myself._ "

 

Wild things with terrible intentions are everywhere. The one in his room, standing over him in every direction, coercing him from all four corners and the bottom of the staircase scares him the most, but he still wants to be touched, handled like Dirk says he will be. It's shameful. "I'm sorry, Dirk," he says to the one who can't hear him.

 

" _When it's enough, I'll push you back, get you on your hands and knees or pull your thigh over my shoulder. Then, I'll fuck you like you deserve it, hard and attentive until I'm tired, but you won't be satisfied, so I'll put you on top and let you do the work, have you ride me until you're a boneless, brainless mess._ "

 

He's hyperventilating as he works himself from both ends, crazy with the pleasure piquing in every neglected hollow of him. Whether he's dying or coming, he feels disgusting, incredible, and close to death.

 

" _Pretty soon, you'll break the way I want you to be broken, the way only my body gives you what you need to keep breathing, and of course I've got an agenda._ "

 

His fingers curl and twist, in and out, and he drives himself back on them, feeling the air stir beside him as Dirk sits down, running a long finger under his chin and shaking off the drop of sweat he takes away.

 

" _If it's the only way I'm allowed to have you, I will use desire as an excuse and leave your body in ruins to get to your heart._ "

 

Turning to face him, Jake closes his eyes because he knows that Dirk will run away again, if he thinks he might be seen, and swallows a mouth full of thick, syrupy saliva, feeling the need between his thighs sharpen to a needle point that wants to pop him. He's close.

 

" _I will fuck you until you love me._ "

 

This is bodily, material, tactile. It's not love; it's heady and insulting, and even the roaring, gnashing island monsters clamoring for blood in the humid jungle all around him know it. He's frantic, terrified because things he can't see can see him and make him feel, and they can dangle possibilities, desires, over his head so effectively. Darkness, ghosts, monsters, and rippling heat from all sides stress his body like a rubber wire pulled taut and vibrating on the brink of snapping back.

 

" _You can scream from the pleasure, or you can scream from the fear. Which is irrelevant, but scream now._ "

 

He does, and the orgasm tears out of him so hard it has him falling over on his side, pressing his red face to the floor because he's so hot he thinks he can feel the tiles warping from the heat. Dirk's shoes tap slowly against them, wandering around his room now and banging on the walls, teasing the furious monsters who are all crying out in a frenzied cacophony. The dark covers him like a blanket, shushing him and lulling him into a sleep that will only bring more of this, a lucid, yearning nightmare.


End file.
